On wings of butterflies or eagles
by On either side the river lie
Summary: Post S2 Christmas Special-Missing scene before S3 (no spoilers). Breaking the news of their engagement to their families would never have been a typical event for Matthew and Mary. (I have borrowed my friends briefly from Fellowes, they will forever live with him)I always imagined that M/M may not have just announced their engagement blatantly, and this is the product. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1- With bated breath

**Downton 1920 January**

The crunching of gravel under the car tyres announced their arrival at the big house, even as the rest of the grounds still stood with a blanket of snow draped over it like a secret. As the car slowly arched to a stop in front of the wooden carved doors, Matthew slowly let out a long silent breath as he opened his eyes. He tried to cease the constant chatter in his mind, the thrumming of music in his fingers, the static that needed to jolt his heart to a slower beat.

If anything over the years of being in this family had taught him, and indeed the war, was that he could now focus. His mind stilled, and he breathed with purpose. Once, a long time ago, he would not have been able to quench his booming heartbeat. It felt so long ago, eight years and so many long days. Yet it was those first couple of months after arriving at Downton that he held crisp and clear. His memories, pure with innocence and youth, were now half a lifetime away.

Matthew straightened in the seat of the car, knowing that at tonight's dinner he had to be at his best. The corner of his mouth quirked slightly at the thought of what may happen. And as the footman opened the car door for them to step out, he caught his mother's eye. There was a question there, one he couldn't answer yet, so he lowered his gaze to offer his hand for her to enlighten the car. He would have to watch himself tonight.

* * *

Mary paused at the door of her room, her hand resting on the doorknob. She looked back over her shoulder and then turned.

Her trunks lay closed under the window, almost full with clothes and her most precious belongings. She would have filled one with just books, if getting them out of the library and past papa was an easy task. She wondered if he would mind if she took one or two.

Anna stood silently, her shoulders hunched, with one hand over her trembling mouth, and one flat against the polished grain of wood of the largest trunk.

"Hush, my darling Anna. I will not be going too far." It was a whispered promise. Mary placed a slender hand on Anna's shoulder, with her heart in her mouth at having to hold back the truth.

That was how a moment later Lady Grantham found the two. Mary's dark hair, with her dress echoing the colour of the walls of her bedroom, and Anna's fair head arched together. There had always been the intangible bond closer than that of Lady and her maid.

* * *

Isobel had been watching her son during this last week, trying to read if there were any clues since the servants ball of how he was fairing with the news of Mary's departure. He had Isobel baffled. She had expected the brooding Matthew to return. Despondent or angry, or sullen perhaps, but not indifferent. _No, not indifferent_, her brows furrowed in thought, _settled_. He was calm and yet at moments when he did not notice her watching, humming with energy.

She had felt at last that perhaps she too had lost the fight to try and bring Mary and her beloved son back from the sides of the chasm that they had so many times looked across at each other. The dining room table was part of that gulf between them. How many years had she watched these two beautiful young creatures talk with their eyes across that divide. And while their eyes held the truth, their words and those left unsaid were the ones that betrayed them.

So it was here tonight that the table would soon turn into an ocean between them.

_I wish you would fight for her_

Isobel's heart ached just a little bit at the thought of her stubborn son. A hurt little boy encased in a man's battered body acting in a world full of duty and obligation, of loyalty and unrequited love.

Tonight's dinner party was going to be a hard goodbye. The news of Mary's immanent departure was not a cause of celebration, but they had been asked to attend, as family, so that all the goodbyes could be over quickly and efficiently.

She felt her son breathe and then straighten. The car stopped and in that second before this night started she caught his eye with a question.

_Will you still not fight for her? Is this it?_

* * *

Carson saw the car rolling down the driveway long before he needed to open the doors for their arrival, but they had been waiting for Mr and Mrs Crawley to arrive for a good half hour after all the family had been seated and talking in the drawing room. It was unlike them to be so late, especially as they lived so close to the Abbey.

He could imagine that Mr Crawley would be in a morose and surly mood tonight. Why wouldn't he be? Carson was. His beautiful and darling girl Lady Mary was leaving Downton. There were cracks in his heart as there would be in the stoic walls of this stately home. She was running away, for who knows how long. The mask of bravery over her ruined heart. All he hoped was that she took some of the foundation stones of her family home to start to rebuild her life and her heart. Whether they had Crawley engraved on them, he wasn't sure. He had lost hope at some point that she would ever know peace and love in one breath.

There was the odd occasion when he felt all he wanted to do was whelp on the back of Mr Crawley's head to knock some sense into the boy. Tonight was one of those moments. Yet, Carson wasn't sure he wanted to see ruffled the calmness that had settled over Mary's being these last few days. There was a tranquillity that lay behind her eyes that many did not see, and Carson could feel it emanating from her core. Was this last bit of freedom that that had stilled the raging waters of Mary's heart, he wasn't sure.

So it was as he greeted Mr and Mrs Crawley at the door when they arrived and started to take their hats and coats that he finally got to gauge Matthew's countenance.

"Mr Crawley and Mrs Crawley," he started in greeting. "They are waiting in the drawing room for you. Dinner will be served momentarily."

"Thank you Carson. I apologise for being late. I…lost track of the time at the office." An easy oversight, perhaps. Or deliberately timed.

Carson caught Isobel's apologetic purse of her lips and raised eyebrows. He hated untimely behaviour, but for it to be Matthew on this night that they were to farewell Mary, he really did want to slap him.

Carson led them to the drawing room door, paused, and announced their arrival.


	2. Chapter 2- butterfly wings

She turned slightly from where she stood on the far side of the room to watch him enter.

She knew when he had entered through the great entrance doors. Not from sight, or sound, but that other sense that was purely shared by Mary and Matthew. She felt the red thread tighten as it was tied between them. Bound throughout time together to be tugged, held taut, slackened, tied in knots, and frayed slightly in spots. It was there tonight, with not much space between them. For a long time she had felt tied to him. But it was from tonight that it would be for others to see.

Isobel had entered and was greeted by Cora and Robert, rising to welcome them back to the Big House after only a few short days since the Servants Ball. Robert being in Matthews's immediate field of view shook his hand and Matthew apologized for their late arrival. Mary did not see the look of searching in her father's eyes, or the way Matthew could not hold them for long.

So it was just a brief moment after her mother's kiss to Matthew's cheek that those summer sky eyes finally found hers. They could not have been further away from each other in the room, and yet that look held all that needed to be said. Volumes.

Mary inclined her head, the knowing tilt of chin that was so Mary. The lines at the corner of her eyes shot sparkling rays as the smile wanted to escape. Her mask over the rest of her face remained impassive, locked between neutrality and polite composure. They would all be watching the two of them and how they would set the mood for dinner. She wanted to be serene, but felt the tickling sensations of nervousness.

_Tonight we have to be careful_.

He looked as if he was trying not to smile. _Careful. _As his eyes broke down, he had to stop himself from a chuckle.

_Breathe_.

_Not yet_

In the moment that was no more than a blink Mary figuratively put out her finger for the butterflies behind her eyelids to rest on. Tonight was not for butterflies. They were too soft and delicate and fleeting. Tonight was for eagles to soar.

As Carson announced dinner served, the rest of the room stirred in a swish of fabric and low murmurings as everyone paired off for seating into the dining room. They were a small intimate party, those closest to, and much loved by the eldest Crawley daughter.

Mary's step faulted just as she was going to meet her mamma's arm, and she paused in front of Matthew not quite knowing what her first words were going to be. There seemed to be the propriety to acknowledge his attendance somehow. Mary need not have worried. A solicitor is always good with words.

"Are you ready?" he whispered.

"More than ready" and it was with an arched eyebrow that she moved forward to grasp her mamma's arm, just as her pappa extended his to her as well. They walked through, the three of them, for the perhaps the last time, and Mary wondered in that moment when she finally had arrived at becoming this woman.

Matthew watched her (she could feel the warmth of his eyes) and knew tonight was going to be a spectacle**.**

* * *

_'Sit next to Granny. Distract her with your charm.'_

_'Then she will definitely know that something is off. She has a knack for snuffing out the truth before anyone else.'_

_'Then brood and scowl and give me your famous haughty eyes and she will think what they are all thinking. They will be none the wiser. '_

_'Do you really think that this will be the best way of telling them? Instead of us just announcing it at pre-dinner drinks in the drawing room? Won't that easier?'_

_'Oh Matthew, please don't become a creature of duty now. Not with us. We have waited so long, what will be a few hours for them. Life is a game, at which we must play. At least let us have some fun with it.'_

_'In lew of a good argument, I suppose a good banter will suffice'_

_'They will not be expecting a very public display of candour'_

_'No, I expect not. You must not give me one of your gazes before we start or otherwise that will be the end of me!' he laughed with a shake of his head._

_"And for goodness sake, Matthew, you must not come early. Or we will have to make idle chit chat over the weather!" She raised her free hand, palm up, in a hopeless gesture._

_Matthew looked at her riding gloved hand in his and he rubbed his thumb gently over the stretched leather knuckles. It felt like skin, and his eyes wandered to take in that she was wearing her full riding habit. Her long legs in her jodhpurs, albeit under the riding skirt, knee high riding boots and the whip lying on the snow nearby. The rough bark of the tree he was leaning on brought his mind back to focus._

_We have waited so long._

_Breathe_

_Be careful_

_'Are you ready for this?' Mary hummed_

_'More than ready!' Matthew laughed a deep and reverberating laugh, as they both raised their faces to the sky and let the wind know of happiness._

* * *

The mood at dinner was slightly subdued as to the reason to why they were there. Carson watched from every point of the room as he served and from the back wall as they ate. Ever mindful of who needed their wine refilled. Robert had drunk no more than usual, always the man of manners and balance. Cora had started with a few glasses and now seemed to have slowed down, her eyes soft and glassy every time she turned to her eldest daughter to her left. Edith daintily sipped her wine as she talked to Isobel of all things hospital, weather and the village. Isobel had her usual white with the soup and now mollified would not require much of the red.

He watched the Dowager Countess have her usual half glass of white and now poured her half glass of red ready for the main meal; he guessed she was saving herself for the sherry after dessert to numb the emptiness of the loss of her favourite grandchild. She gave him a curt nod at no doubt reading her mind, and she indicated with an angled glance toward that which they both loved. He raised his thick eyebrows in acknowledgement of that which they were both losing.

So it was not until just before the serving of the main meal that there was only two glasses that he had not refilled at all yet. He realised that their waters needed to be completely refilled. These were the two that he had thought that would have needed more attention than most for this last evening.

_Interesting_

He watched them out the corner of his eyes as only the most professional servant could while serving the main course. To see and to anticipate the needs of those of his employers, Carson, as Butler to a house like Downton was able read body language effortlessly and with consciousness.

He knew this family (his family) better at times than they knew themselves. He watched his beautiful Mary and saw not the withdrawn woman of only weeks ago, the one whose mask hid all the sorrow and heartbreak of the last few years. But he felt he was watching something about to be set free. Like a bird whose wing had been broken, and now healed, about to take those very last steps before trying to fly again.

And so it was, when the main course had been served and the guests around the table had just started to pick up their cutlery to eat that he saw them look at each other. That was what he had been waiting for all night. For them to raise their eyes, the light and the shade, to really see each other. And he saw what passed between them.

He breathed, whilst standing at the back of the room ready for what was to come.


	3. Chapter 3- taking flight

_Are you ready?_

_More than ready!_

"I am sure that you must be looking forward to your imminent departure?" His voice was not loud, but carried across the other side of the table clearly for Mary to hear. Within the small dinner party, most heard the question, even if they tried to continue their own conversations.

"Indeed I am." Mary replied without raising her eyes, as she delicately thrust her fork into a bean.

"Have you finalised your packing?" _Where to fit all those clothes!_

"Almost" she said with a hint of a sigh, "I just have to pillage a few of papa's books for the times ahead."

Robert shook his head whilst cutting his meat_, She could take half the library if he knew that it would divert her mind for the near future._

"I am sure you will find interesting enough books to where you are going", his mind running over the many volumes that he had in his study.

"I was wondering if there will be a vast range of Classics. Or do you suppose that it that there would be more emphasis to modern literature?"

Thrust

"I am quite sure Mary, you of all people, will find something that will stimulate your mind_." Mind, well he knew that from the last eight years, Body he was more than keen to learn to stimulate, and her Soul he would spend the rest of their lives trying to decipher. _Matthew could have almost smiled at the thought of Mary being stimulated_._

Parry.

"I may at last attempt to delve into the heathen world of the likes of _Beowulf_ without interruption", she replied with a thought of relish at the massive undertaking.

"Are you quite sure that this next step will lead to a much sort after and brighter future for you?" He spoke with a serious playfulness.

"I am finding the thrill of the unknown at this point to be quite what I need." Her papa looked at her then, pausing with a fork full of roast pork halfway to his lips. His eyes flicked to Matthew as he next spoke.

"_I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move_"* Matthews face wistful in memory of the quote. He hoped that he had it right.

"_To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive_." **So quick was Mary to requote the same poet, an easy parry, considering all the reading that she had consumed for all those endless years waiting in the drawing room for marriage.

They were alone in a sea of faces. The metallic chinks on china slowed as all the ears around the table quieted to hear the to and fro.

"Yes, Stevenson, the Scottish poet who spoke of travelling to escape the unforgiving weather. Is it the journey then that you look forward to? Or the destination?" Matthews's voice spoke softly, like a caress.

She almost let her face shift then, letting a waft of all the past years weigh in her eyes, but she quickly recovered by blinking. " Each, both. They are but the same. The journey has been a long time in coming. Even if the ultimate destination has been unsure."

_What tongues they were speaking_, Lord Grantham thought. _Surely this waffle did not need to dominate the entire tables' conversation. _And yet they were all intrigued that this was the most that Mary and Matthew had really spoken in front of everyone for such a long time. _Let them have this time. _Mary would be gone soon enough from all their lives. Dinner would then be quite bland.

"Is there places of interest, other than America, that you may in your future consider travelling to?" Stabbing a piece of potato to savour quickly, he started to raise his eyes, but only got as far as her plate. Her long fingers held the cutlery lightly while hovering over her food.

Mary paused, thinking, as her eyes travelled to the ceiling seeking enlightenment. "Ancient Greece, to trawl around their ruins and breath in their myths, Venice for their art and a ride in a gondola, a seaside villa in the South of France and perhaps the city lights of Paris. Going to stay with Grandmamma in America is one thing. But travelling around the Continent, I would surely need a chaperone!"

"Humph. Don't look at me dear," broke in the Dowager Countess as she placed a papery hand on Mary's arm "I wouldn't have the energy to gallivant around with an itinerary like that"

Granny's hand made Mary acutely aware that they had all stopped to listen. There was little noise other than beating hearts and a distant echo of butterfly wings.

"A chaperone perhaps. Or more preferably, a husband?" He was sure that his voice had cracked on the last word.

Thrust.

_Breathe in._

"Ah yes. There is always that." Mary's voice almost sounded breathless. Could she keep the sliver of hope out of her voice? Had he heard it?

Isobel's head had moved quickly to look at her son next to her, her eyes wide. She dared to think what they were playing at. Mary noticed the reaction, but Matthew did not hesitate.

"So you will leave Downton with the hope of marriage?" He threw down the gauntlet. _Would you stay, if I asked you to?_

"I think there is a part of me that believes that in due course I will have a home of my own, and even a family. I may not be the youngest bride, but I am sure that there is a suitor somewhere that might be able to appreciate me for who I am now, not a girl straight out of her first Season full of naivety and a simpler take on the world." And it was at this moment that she raised her shaded eyes to look him plainly in the face. Eyebrow cocked with the challenge.

Matthew knew it was there, he could feel her eyes on him, and his mouth almost curved into a grin.

She continued, "Besides, I am thoroughly convinced that I will return home to Downton at some point in the future." An old hope that had more truth in it now than in years.

Thrust and parry.

"I am sure you will know when you have found a suitable adversary."

"Of that I am completely sure." Her voice had strength and conviction. She raised her water glass to sip and just before her lips touched the cool glass she ever so slightly toasted the air in Matthew's direction.

Edith nearly choked on her carrot, saving grace at the last minute by coughing into her napkin. Matthews's eyebrow tweaked. They could do this all night with such a captive audience.

"I remember saying once, after we first arrived in fact, that I did not see that we were destined to be close friends. I am glad to say that at this point I was utterly wrong." _Who had he said it to? Had it been Violet?_

"I am very glad to say that I think that our friendship has stood the test of time, do you think not Matthew?"

Cora nearly baulked at the simplicity and understatement of their obvious true feelings toward each other for all these rollercoaster years. Had she had too much wine already? Or was her daughter…..

"_A friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow_."***He was full of quotes tonight.

"You always did love Shakespeare." A poet for her poet.

The air was thickening and many who watched felt the need to pant. Did Mary and Matthew really not realise that everyone was still sitting in the same room.

Violet had the growing suspicion that this was more than friendly banter. From the growing atmosphere it seemed as if the word lover was more appropriate. Her small acute eyes watched the sword play. She was ever growing more curious to where this might lead. Her hand on her cane tightened, a ready weapon unleashed unto anyone that might break the magical spell.

Lost in thought Mary suddenly snapped her fingers and pointed at him, a very unladylike gesture, but it instantly had Matthew's and everyone else's attention

"Ha, this one I remember. _Love to faults is always blind, always is to joy inclined. Lawless, winged, and unconfined, and breaks all chains from every mind_."

Thrust and parry

"My dear," Matthew couldn't stop a crooked smirk," that reminds me of another conversation we had around this very dinner table more than seven years ago. May you be referring to the Greek myth of a captured and chained Andromeda and her hero Perseus?" His smiled broadened then, he couldn't stop it and he didn't want to. It lit up his eyes and he challenged her to meet him.

_Damn he was good_. And that was half the fun, and half the reason why she loved him.

"Shakespeare may not have been, but I can relate to the reference. Although I think I may have changed my opinion to that first time we spoke of it. What, my dear, do you feel that you qualify now as? The _Sea monster in question_ or Perseus?" Mary's eyebrows goaded him to answer the weighty question.

Thrust

_"Perseus. Son of a God. Rather more fitting wouldn't you say?"_ He puffed out his chest and leaned back in the dining chair.

And parry.

_Echoes of conversations past_, thought Edith, _Sybil would have loved this interlude_.

There was a warm rumbling of chuckles around the table, but it was Carson who visibly nearly fell over from stifling a belly laugh. _Touché Mary_, he thought.

"Well then, if you are indeed the Perseus to my Andromeda, do you still intend to save me from my fate"

"I am your fate." The air stilled, as if a thousand wings had beat it out the door.

_Breathe out_

"But I have chosen to go across the raging seas to America." Mary's voice rose slightly, almost in a childish whimper.

"That you have" He shrugged his shoulders in resignation.


	4. Chapter 4- as eagles soar

Mary looked at him openly then, unsure how to step back from that obvious finality to everyone else.

Everyone had stopped eating, or had quietly finished. The rest of the meal forgotten by those in the room. At some point the rest of the staff had tip toed in, waiting behind the screen ready to start clearing the dishes. Waiting and watching this extraordinary scene before them. Anna held her hand to her lips, knowing exactly what was playing out. Her heart skipped more than a beat. Was this it?

The air crackled and the silence only held a swish of soft wings. Mary had to pick up her wine glass for the first time that night to take a couple of sips. Refreshing it was not, but it wet her lips.

So it was with the determined look of a future Earl that Matthew straightened in his chair, flanked by his mother and the Dowager Countess that he spoke across the room, head held high, to Carson standing in the wings.

"Carson,"

"Yes milord" He had to shake himself out of the spell. He stepped forward eagerly, waiting…

"Carson, could you please pass what is on the mantle place to Lady Mary."

"Yes, milord."

_Are you ready? _His eyes danced with light and love as he watched her.

Her eyes of shade widened with surprise. Mary had not expected this, had no idea at this play of events.

_Breathe._

Carson moved behind her to the mantle_. What was there and when had he placed it in such an open position?_ She couldn't turn around in her seat, that would be deemed unladylike. So she gazed across to Matthew, her face full of questions. All she saw was his teasing smile. It covered his whole face and he lent forward over his plate, arms on the table and clasped his hands together.

_Breathe._

Everyone had their eyes on what Carson was retrieving. Something small obscured by his big hands. And as he set it down in front of Mary, she thought that she saw his hands tremble. In one swift motion he had placed a small soft blue ring box in front of her and taken her plate with the unfinished meal still upon it.

Her mother and Isobel both gasped. Robert hummed at the back of his throat, Cora raised a hand to cover her mouth and Violet softly thumped her walking stick on the ground twice. They waited silently, straining not to be the one to break the spell.

The ring box had the kind of velvet that was rich in texture and quality. It had once come from a very fine jeweller. It was worn in patches, along a couple of the edges and on the bottom. It did not look old in relation to an heirloom, more from being rubbed by being against something for a long time.

Mary had not touched it. Her heart beat as loud as thunder and the air shifted again near her ears as she felt the butterflies close by.

_Breathe._

_It has waited a long time for you._

"So are you really going to America?" Matthew's voice was low with intent. Her long fingers laid so close to the box, folded over one another. A couple twitched aching to open it.

"Hmmmm" What did he say? The words rang a memory, but some small way they were different.

"I thought, seeing as we are such good friends and you are leaving Downton for the foreseeable future, that I would give you a memento. A token as such, to remember me by." He looked at his glass as he picked it up, playing down the importance of such a gesture. He sipped the wine, a long deliberate drink. He placed it back on the table but his fingers played with the stem of the glass. Toying with it.

"And you did not think that perhaps a handkerchief for my homesick tears or a classic book of Greek literature more fitting for the occasion?"

Thrust… but it fell flat.

He wanted to show everyone, more notably Mary herself how utterly loved and adored she was. This was her moment; they had already had theirs in the snow after the Servants Ball. This was for all intents and purposes as much to hold up his end of the game they played as it was to share this joy of theirs with her family.

_Are you ready?_

"There is absolutely nothing more fitting than what is in that box for this occasion." There was a crisp sincerity that rang in his voice. She felt rather than heard his response.

His mother turned and smiled at her son. He had fought for her. He had won. _My darling Boy_.

Robert turned in his chair slightly and looked with the pride of only a father could at his most beloved children. _Here was a brave man_. The man he had dared not hope that would love his daughter.

They only had eyes for each other. The light and the shade. He raised his brows prompting her to open the box. He wanted to see her reaction. His heart had been in that box for years, since before the first time he had proposed to her. 1914 seemed like a lifetime ago.

Mary slowly reached her top hand over the velvet of the box. She caressed the worn edges with reverence, knowing and yet wondering where it been and what it had seen. The blue was softer than Matthew's eyes, a shade perhaps of when he first woke in the morning, with dreams still clouding his sight.

She lifted the box, cupping it with her left hand and the long fingers on the right slowly opened the lid. There lay in the folds a delicate band of white gold with a clear cut diamond with a heart of blue. Even in the almost candle light of the dining room it caught and flung shafts of rainbow light. It was not a small diamond, and not as garish as the gems that Sir Carlisle had thrust on her hand.

Her hand rose in surprise up to her mouth, covering any possibilities of a cry. And her eyes shot up to meet Matthews with such adoration and delight as he had never seen cross her face before. He thought at that moment she would have flung herself across the top of the dining room table to wrap her arm around him. He would have welcomed her with open arms. _Not tonight_!

He saw her posture shift, drawing up her shoulders and a wicked twinkle in her eye_. _Her chin tilted and her eyebrows arched. _Oh, she had not finished with him yet_! And so he waited.

"A memento you say," as she slowly grasped the ring and drew it out of the box. Her voice coy, retrieving an echo of their early days around the table, as she started to try the ring on her each of her fingers on her right hand, with no success in getting it over her knuckles. "A good friend indeed!" Her voice was mocking, a tease to his audacity.

She turned to her left hand. Held it up so that all eyes could see the show. She dared not think what would happen if it didn't fit.

Matthew smiled, he knew. And waited. He was ready.

_Are you ready, My Love?_

The question lay amongst the decorations, the candles, the salt and pepper shakers, the used plates and all their past stolen glances across this very table.

Not her thumb, she knew that. She wondered if it would fit her pointer finger, but no. She would have loved to see the look on his face if it fit her middle figure. She wore many rings, often and always on that one. It had been the closest to her ring finger that she could get. The closest to feel like she had been married to Matthew in her heart for all these years.

It slid down onto the knuckle, but then it stopped too high up, not near the base of her digit where it was meant to sit. She sighed inwardly, this was it, and it had all been leading up to this very moment.

_Am I ready?_

And Mary slipped the ring over her long elegant ring finger as easy as it had been sized especially and only for that one finger on Mary's hand. Her breath quickly sucked in, her chest rose in amazement.

_My God, how perfect._

"And my darling Matthew, pray tell, what am I to tell all those dashing American millionaire suitors when they ask why I have such a memento on _this_ finger"

She waved it treacherously in the air towards the middle of the table.

His smiled widened at the endearment.

"I thought that would have been quite obvious now Darling, all you have to do is explain that you have an English husband"

_Yes My Love, I am more than ready!_

"_Will you_?" If he had been standing he would have made a step closer towards her.

"Will you?" It was Granny, poor dear, caught up in the moment.

The spell broke, and Mary suddenly became aware of all the eyes anticipating her answer. This time she couldn't stop the blush as it rushed up her neck into her cheeks, and prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. Her rapid breathing made the top of her red silk dress flutter over her chest. She closed her eyes.

_Breathe and be still my heart_.

And when she opened them she looked straight into the light of Matthew.

"Matthew already knows my answer." His eyes held her riveted. At that moment she was his, wholly, unrestrained and uninhibited in front of her family. She was beautiful and for all the hurt and pain and suffering that they both had over the last years, this moment swept it all away on a thousand little wings.

_Are you Happy?_

_I think I'm about to be happy, does that count?_

_It does if you mean it._

Matthew tugged at the red thread that was left between them, barely millimetres.

Mary felt it, and she slowly rolled years of yarn into a ball that they could both could carry between clasped hands.

"You've lived your life, and I've lived mine…" he started,

"…and now it's time we lived them together." Her voice was like a caress. The smile Mary bestowed on Matthew was beyond the light of a million diamonds dazzling, and they soared, on wings of eagles, leaving shade behind.

** FIN**

_*&**Robert Louis Stevenson quotes (Scottish Essayist, Poet and Author of fiction and travel books, 1850-1894)_


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